


Fever

by Datawolf39



Series: Soulmarks [4]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Cuddles, F/M, Love, Richard being cared for, Sickfic, Some Fluff, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25480771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Datawolf39/pseuds/Datawolf39
Summary: Richard is sick.
Series: Soulmarks [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1529498
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Just kept writing from the previous post and this is what happened. It turned into a sickfic and I am kinda happy about it.

The case takes a week, and by the end they are all exhausted. They forgo post case drinks, and simply head home for the night. Richard wakes in the night, and knows in an instant that he is sick. He’s sweating and shivering, and would love nothing more than to go into torpor until the illness faded. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, he was unable to sleep. He groaned, and tossed the covers back. 

Standing was an ordeal in itself, due to how dizzy it made him, but he managed to keep his balance as he made his way out to the veranda, and fell into a chair. The air was hot, and did nothing to help, but it felt better than lying uselessly in bed with Harry watching from the dresser.

He watches the waves, picturesque in the moonlight, and wonders if the water would help right now. Surely a quick dip would cool him off, and bring some measure of relief.

He sways as he moves down the beach, and blinks when he reaches the water. He trips in the mushy sand, and is drenched in moments. It feels nice, like meditation, and he lays there, drifting in the water...

“-chard!” 

He blinks, looking up at Camille. Behind her he can see Dwayne, Fidel, and Catherine. He blinks again. Why were they here? Where was here anyway? He shivers, suddenly cold. Why is he on the beach? Wasn’t he in bed? 

“Help me get him inside,” Camille says, and suddenly, there are hands on him.

He jumps, not expecting the touch, and they release him quickly. He frowns. He wants to explain himself, but talking seems like too much effort. It hits him that he doesn’t need words to communicate with them, and he opens the door.

He’s been working on the door. At first he could barely open it at all, but slowly he was able to do it easier. Still it is not without struggle normally, but right now, it is as easy as moving aside a sheet of tissue paper. 

He offers his confusion as he gazes around, and his guilt as he looks at the hands that would never intentionally hurt him. He wonders if they can understand.

They touch him again, but don’t pull away even as he jumps at the contact. He sends them gratitude, and slowly they help him rise from the sand. They all go into the house, and then they are in motion. The boys help him into the bathroom to wash off the worst of the sand, and help him into another pair of pajamas.

Camille has changed the sheets while they got him cleaned up, and they guide him to the bed. Catherine brings a cup of water from the kitchen, and he takes the offered medicine with no fuss. 

It’s surreal having them there, and he can almost believe it to be a dream. It’s too cliche a scenario to be real, but maybe he can be allowed to enjoy it? He wonders if he has actually drowned, since this is so clearly a dream. He prays someone rescues him, he didn’t want to hurt any of his mates like that. His thoughts get foggy as the fever soars higher. 

~

“His fever finally broke,” Camille sighs, and opens the link to her other mates to let them feel her relief. They’ve all been taking turns caring for Richard. He had drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes more lucid and sometimes less so. Some of the things he had said would have been funny if he wasn't burning with a dangerously high fever.

“Camille?” he rasps. 

Camille can feel how confused he is. “Shhh, rest your voice, you’ve been really sick,” she tells him.

“You-” he coughs. She grabs the glass of water, and helps him drink from it. “You all came? That night was real?”

“We felt you through the bond. You were hazy, and nothing we sent seemed to reach you. By the time we got here you were unconscious in the water.”

“Sorry,” he says. He truly hadn’t meant to worry them. 

Relief pours into him from his bonds, and he sighs with it. He’s not sure how to make this up to them, but he knows that he needs to. Of their own volition, his eyes close. Camille climbs into the bed to lay beside him.

“Sorry,” he murmurs again.

“Sleep now,” she orders him, and he is more than willing to give in. 

He holds her, grateful that he allowed this simple affection. He can’t say the words, he’s not ready for that yet, but he can give her the emotion.

“I love you too,” she says, her voice as sweet as pure honey.

He smiles, and lets himself drift away.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if there is something you want to see in this verse.


End file.
